


Helplessness

by susies_fandom_wonders



Series: Requested Fics [8]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen, Targent, not ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susies_fandom_wonders/pseuds/susies_fandom_wonders
Summary: Descole is attacked, and Layton takes a fatal hit.





	Helplessness

**Author's Note:**

> From my Tumblr blog, slenderbrine22.tumblr.com . Requested by @one-groovy-rose , she wanted a fic where Layton is dying in Des's presence.

Descole flipped back, landing on his feet elegantly after kicking his assailant in the jaw. He wiped a bit of blood from his jaw with the sleeve of his suit jacket, glaring at the Targent scum that decided to challenge him.

The attack had come unexpectedly, Descole had been wandering through the Azran sanctuary with Layton and his… apprentice, Luke (Descole cringed and scolded himself -- he should not be referring to Layton’s little brat in such an affectionate way). He had been grabbed from behind, pulled into a branching corridor.

Before Descole could recover from the surprise ambush, he had been punched square in the jaw, which made him stumble with a surprised grunt, but he managed to recover before losing his footing entirely.

Descole quickly sprung back into action, rushing at the uniformed soldier as he untied his cape, throwing it to the side as he lunged at the man, effectively knocking him to the floor. They rolled on the stone ground, the masked man landing punch after punch on the man’s face before he was kicked off with surprising force. He landed on his back, and he quickly did a backwards somersault as he avoided a swing obviously aimed for his jaw. He shot up to his feet, ready to attack him again when the click of a gun froze him in his tracks. The two stared at each other for a moment, then the Targent man broke into a grin.

“Imagine what the boss would do if I brought him your mask.” Descole clenched his teeth together, looking around the narrow, stone hallway for any sort of an advantage to him.  
The hallway was completely barren except for the small pebbles that littered the floor from years of wear and tear. He glanced back at the man, narrowing his eyes under the mask. He could hear footsteps echoing on the walls around him, and he tensed.

“That’s it,” the Targent soldier said, his voice smug. “You’ve got nowhere else to go, Descole.” He could see the finger around the trigger of the gun tightening. “Let’s make this quick.” Descole moved to brace himself, tensing his body to jump out of the way, when a flash of brown moved in front of him as the gun fired.

Layton collapsed to the ground, and Descole stared with wide eyes as blood began pooling out of the wound in the professor’s stomach. Descole looked up at the man, clenching his teeth as he stepped over the body carefully before charging. The Targent man took a step back in surprise, looking from the fallen body of Layton to the rapidly approaching Descole.

Descole knocked the gun out of the man’s hand before catching it easily, pointing it at the man’s head.

“Strange that this gun would work here,” Descole started, his voice cold. The Targent man looked at him in fear, his lips pursed. “Is it Azran made?” Descole started putting pressure on the trigger. “Would you mind if I tested it on you?” He pointed the weapon to the wall beside the man’s head before firing a shot. The man stumbled backwards before turning on his heel and booking it. He waited a moment, hearing the footsteps retreating, and he dropped the weapon, turning and rushing back to Layton’s fallen body.

His hands frantically ripped open Layton’s sweater before taking off his jacket, pushing on the bloody wound in the professor’s stomach. Layton groaned, his mouth twisting into a pained grimace. His eyes scrunched closed even tighter.

Luke came rushing around the corner, giving a sharp yelp of surprise when his eyes fell on his mentor’s body. He fell to his knees, looking at Descole with a pale face.

“W-What happened to the professor?” He asked with a shaky voice. Descole didn’t even respond, his eyes filling with frustrated tears as he set his jaw.

The blood had soaked through Descole’s jacket, the cloth becoming wet and heavy as he pushed harder. Layton opened his eyes then, his half-lidded gaze meeting Descole’s through his mask.

“Are… you okay?” He asked quietly, his lips turned up into a small smile. Descole could feel his breathing getting heavier.

“You dumbass!” He snapped. “Why did you do that? I would have been fine.”

“...But….” Layton’s voice trailed off, his breathing shaky and weak as he clenched his eyes shut.

“‘But that’s what a gentleman does’?” Descole said quietly. Layton just nodded, his eyes remaining closed. Luke was staring at the professor with a mix of sadness and grief, large tears streaming down his face. Descole’s anger rekindled. “Think of yourself for once, dammit! Your life matters just as much as everyone else’s.”

“I’m…,” Layton’s voice faltered as he winced. “I’m sure you would have done the same thing if….” Another wince. “....if you were in my position.” His voice had grown quiet, tired. Descole scooped the broken man in his arms, starting to run back towards the entrance of the ruins, and he could hear Luke’s frantic footsteps following him.

Layton was going limp in his arms. Descole let out a string of curse words, picking up his pace even faster.

“You can’t go yet. You can’t,” he muttered to the man in his arms. A stream of tears began to flow from his eyes, fogging up his mask.

Layton’s breathing was weak and rattly. His eyes were beginning to relax from their clenched state, his expression shifting from a pained one to a calm, peaceful one. Descole couldn’t take it.

“Theodore, stay with me!” He exclaimed, the entrance coming into view. He knew where Raymond was, he could get Layton -- his brother -- some help.

That’s right. His brother was dying in his arms. He was dying, Theodore was dying. His mind whirled with a multitude of emotions as he approached the door. He kicked it open, spotting Raymond with ease as he rushed towards him. He looked down at Layton, the pale, peaceful expression turning Descole’s blood cold.

“You’re going to get help, Theodore. I promise.”

The man in his arms didn’t respond.


End file.
